Rorshach Test

Three Rorshach tests for you today: the dots
of stone and gravel in the asphault path; the cover of
yellow orange and red leaves on the ground; and
the snickering lovers who bump and cuddle. Your secret
family tree is written in the crushed rocks. They write
messages and you obey. Run. Grow. Die. The leaves are
pages from a book, a bible, a cannon. In the beginning
was the word. You could stuff them in your pockets
and pull them out in the palm of your hand for
notes on how to act. Speak now. A tongue on the breast. How idle
is your desire. The snickering lovers are the last
test and they are always together. I must be psycho --
you must be neurotic. They seem always to be checking
the cracks in the path and the leaves which have dropped
or the leaves which still hang, muttering in their
restlessness to drop.

Copyright Louise Robertson